Friday, February 01, 2008

The first blog I ever read with any regularity was Nancy's, and you might say she inspired me to start my own. She has also inspired me to show you my "commute" to work, much as she did.

Commuting has changed considerably, since my life has done such a 180 degree turn and launched me into farming full time...it's gone from an hour to just over ten minutes. Perhaps not much to see in 8 or so miles, but here we go...

Much of the drive is framed by the low mountains of the Taconics, nestled between the Green Mountains of Vermont, the Berkshires of Massachusetts, and the Adirondacks of New York. We are literally at the joining of the three states. It's that dismal time of the year for scenery, and this was taken just hours before an ice storm hit...the grey is both permeating and foreboding.

Half of the commute we travel alongside either the Little Hoosic River, or the main Hoosic River.

And if you blink when you pass through this intersection in the heart of Hoosick, NY you would miss the Moose Store, where they have EVERYTHING moose. It is a relatively new enterprise, designed to capture the tourist crowd as they zip past from New Jersey (mostly) on their way to Vermont (to ski, I suppose) but I think it's survival will actually depend on the favor of the locals. And so far, the upscale, opportunistic owner from a Saratoga bedroom community doesn't "get" that. He refuses to feature local farmers, producers or artists unless they present their product slathered in moose labels or kitchy moose-themed marketing. Yeah, good luck with that, bub. Seemingly better are the Mennonite artisans who have opened a furniture shop here almost two years ago. The giant chair is a recent addition to the roadside signage, and I so want to sit in it and get my picture taken. Probably just like the hundreds of folks who drive past each day. (I bet that could get old quick if I worked there...)

And every day I am reminded of the deep history of this place...like Mr. Fraser here, who was with Lewis and Clark when they explored the Louisiana Purchase, among other things. I pass his birthplace.

At last, on to the farm, which is framed first by the maple grove, ready for tapping in just a few weeks:

Finally, the hub of the farm which sits nestled in the center of 600 acres:

I did, however, have one advantage over Nancy. I had my own photographer to help me: